Sunday 27th December 2020

Sunday. Apparently.

Days of the week pretty much lost their meaning this year, and doubly so over the festive period. It is only football and bin collection day that resets our inner calendars, and even at this time of year, football is pretty much played every day. Or so it seems.

I am going to bed, not really tired, so laying there with a cat or two bside me as my mind decides if it is tired enough or wants to run through nothing of any importance once again. So I get up later each day, though only quarter past eight, not nine, this time.

Once up and having drunk the first cofffe, and with rain falling outside the Storm Bella still blowing, I cook bacon butties and another brew for us while we listen to the radio.

That takes up nearly half an hour.

The morning passes, and for lunch there is courgette fritters. But I think they need jazzing up a bit, so add an extra pinch or five of chilli flakes and three shakes of cayanne pepper along with three thick rashers of smoked bacon to add bacon.

And the result was another triumph. Tangy, warm, but not too hot and with bacon.

Yummy.

And of course then there was football.

I sit on the sofa and watch the two games, it could have been four, but that would have meant not moving for nearly ten hours. West Ham draw with Brighton and Liverpool drew 1-1 with West Brom.

We were too full for tea, so have a slice of Christmas cake and put on the radio while we play Uckers.

I win, just, and that was that.

I finish the day with two podcasts, the 2020 answer to having few new records to listen to.

And that was that.

And there is another week off to look forward to, and a possible tier 5 coming.

Oh joy.